2013.08.17 - Pizza and LIES
Helena Bertinelli is back in this pizza place, because it's one of the few places she's found since her temporary relocation to Brooklyn from Gotham, and, well, the food's good. Today she's slowly picking her way through a huge salad while reading a book. She's dressed casually but not in any way provocatively, a long, flowing skirt the color of flames topped by a high-necked sleeveless blouse. Steve, even when not in the red, white, and blue, still walks like he was in uniform. His shoulders are back and his head up. He is dressed simply in a pair of blue jeans and a white polo shirt. He smiles and makes eye contact with the girl behind the counter. Despite his strong presence, he is soft spoken and smiles easily. The girl smiles in return, glances away shyly, and then goes to get his order. As the pizza slice warms in the oven, Steve takes the empty cup and moves towards the fountain to get a drink. He gets some iced tea before moving to sit down near Helena as she reads. "Excuse me, miss," he says as he comes near her on his way to his seat. Helena Bertinelli looks up as someone addresses her, and can't control her initial reaction fast enough. Her eyes go wide for a second and then she blinks rapidly and tries to school her expression into something a bit less deer-in-headlights. Damnit, H, get your shit together! "Um, hi?" She tries to make her initial surprise just seem like she was startled out of a fascinating book, or at most that plus recognizing Captain America. Not the previous two on top of knowing that he's one of the Avengers that the Bat told her to spy on. "I didn't mean to startle you," Steve says with a smile. "I just didn't want you to think I was trying to be too forward as I step by." He settles down in the chair near her. "Nice to see the old pizza place is still here. I was starting to get worried that everything I knew had been wiped away." The girl at the counter calls Steve's name, and he heads up there to get his pizza slice before coming back to his seat and settling down again. Helena Bertinelli ohs as Steve explains he was simply being polite as he passed by. "Thanks. I wouldn't have noticed, almost no one bothers anymore." Oh, smooth, H. Smooth. GOD. She appears to return to reading her book and picking at her salad, even though she's now hyper-aware of the blond man's presence as he passes by again to retrieve his meal and sit back down. Even in her peripheral vision this guy is almost unnaturally attractive. Oh, do NOT go there, H! Don't even! Aren't you already in ENOUGH trouble with Clint? "Guess I was just raised differently, Miss." Steve reaches for the parmesan cheese and the red pepper, shaking them liberally over his slice of pizza before picking it up, folding it, and taking a bite. He looks as if he just bit into heaven on a plate as he sets the slice back down and slowly chews it. He sips at his drink as he reaches for a napkin. "I know the Italians created pizza, but there is nothing like a slice of Brooklyn's finest." He smiles and then notices the book. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your reading." Helena Bertinelli looks up from her book again, and... yeah. Go with it. She offers a smile. "It's okay. It's just required reading for class. I'm a bit ahead." Totally play the student part. It'll be believable, and hell, you know how to act like a student. You taught enough of them. Besides, you're the nerd that brought a LATIN book to read while eating. Steve nods and glances at the cover of the book. This time it is his eyebrows that go up. "Guess classes require a bit more than light reading. What class needs that for its studies?" He takes another sip of his tea before taking a bite of pizza. He slowly chews and swallows, clearly not in a rush as he eats. Helena Bertinelli lifts the book so the cover and spine are visible, the title even in Latin, with a photo of some bas relief carving or other. "Latin." She smiles, hoping the joke works, and at the same time hoping that the guy doesn't she's a complete and utter dork. "Working toward my doctorate classical literature and language." That sounds convincing, right? She sets the book back down, slipping a book mark in to keep her place then reaching for a glass of water. "I was going to guess law actually." Steve sits back slightly in his chair. The air smells of garlic, oregano, and onion with the warmth from the ovens not being too oppressive, but just nice enough for a comfortable sit. "I guess you would teach others about classical literature and language with that degree?" he asks with a lift of his eyebrow. Helena Bertinelli nods, eating a smallish forkful of her salad. It's one of those loaded with everything kind of affairs, olives and the whole ball of wax. "Mm. Yeah, that, or maybe become an interpreter in the Vatican City. I'm learning Italian too, so..." That sounded believable, right? Of course, in working up her student story, she's forgotten that her blouse is sleeveless, revealing that she's as much of a soft-all-over bookish type as she's letting on. "Italian is a good language. Spent a little time over there myself. Beautiful country. Have you gotten over there yet?" Steve acts like he is believing her story, but now he is starting to study her a bit. Apparently the student does spend some time in the gym after all. Probably simply more than she is letting on. He does his best to look relaxed, but is actually paying attention now. He drinks a bit slower and then takes another slow bite. "Yeah. Spent some time in Sicily, have relatives there. That's what got me started, really. That, and not being able to understand a WORD of those endless, droning, sleep-inducing church masses." Helena turns the fork a bit in the salad, her long skirt hiding most everything there is to see about her legs, but disappearing toward the inside of her right bicep is a moderately recent scar, that someone who's seen this kind of thing before might actually place as a knife wound. One that apparently was deep enough to scar but not enough to prompt her to get stitches. Steve nods slowly. "I was raised with all the services in English. Episcopalian." He shrugs but gives a smile. "Good to have family. Most of mine have passed away now." His gaze flicks down towards her arm for a moment and then back to her. She would probably notice two things. One, his eyes did drop from hers which probably happens with a lot of guys talking with her, but the second thing is that his eyes didn't go to her chest. "It getting dangerous in libraries these days?" he asks with a slight humorous tone in his voice. "Haven't seen a slash like that in a while." His head nods towards her right arm. Helena Bertinelli blinks and glances down at her arm. SHIT. Should have worn sleeves despite how fucking hot it is. She thinks fast. "Um, no. I just have some pretty rough and tumble cousins in Sicily." Which was true, but that's not where she got this particular scar. Thank the Bat for it. She turns her arm a bit to study the scar and rub at it with her left hand, seemingly unconcerned. It's not like there's any point in hiding it now. And thank god for long skirts, 'cause the fresh bullet wound scar on her left thigh would be way more difficult to make up a lie to explain away. "It's taking forever to fade." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just the scar looks semi fresh, but you don't really look like you have been hanging out under the Tuscan sun." Steve's tone takes a slightly sterner tone, but not full blown fierce. He is just being more direct in his questions at the moment. "Of course, how you spend your days and nights is completely up to you. Certainly not my business, right?" he adds with a smile. DAMNIT. Should have worn sleeves. So much for shorts anytime this year. Helena's smile hesitates ever so briefly, but enough to probably give away to someone observant that she didn't really care for that last comment. "Uh, yeah." She picks at her salad some more, trying for self-conscious now and inwardly hoping he buys it. If she fucks this up the Bat will NEVER let her live it down. Steve just smiles and chuckles slightly as she answers in a rather non committal fashion. "Once again, please excuse the interruption. I did not mean to bother you while reading and studying." The last word is said with just the slightest upturn of a question, but then he is getting up and going back to get a bit more iced tea. Helena Bertinelli caught that slight hint toward not believing her cover story and hides her internal cussing by offering a faint smile as Steve passes by to refill his glass. But, if nothing else, the Latin book is a serious one. Actually printed in Latin, and there are already lots and lots of pencil-written notes in the margins. For the quick-eyed, some of the notes are in English, some are in Italian, and some are in Latin, but all written by the same hand. Steve does glance at the book as he moves by and does notice that it does indeed look like a student's book. There is a slight huff of breath that would be barely audible. He gets some more tea and then makes his way back to his chair. He settles down and begins to eat once more. He remains silent almost curious what Helena is trying to show with her "student" act, but figuring he can get more by simply being quiet and seeing if she is nervous enough to keep talking. Helena Bertinelli is definitely all nerves now, but can just HEAR the Bat in her head. 'If you do happen to get into a dialogue, under _no_ circumstances do you tell them everything you know like a two-penny thug, like you did last time.' Jackass. What does HE know about anything? Outwardly, she seems go back to reading her book, though there's a brief jaw-clench for no apparent reason. She's pretty much done with the salad, though, and is debating something far less healthy. It's a bad idea, though. She's not getting to do nearly as much exercise as she's used to, what with not being able to get any rooftop-hopping done around here for fear of being caught out. Steve remains quiet for a few beats longer and then is finishing his own meal. He grabs a napkin and whipes off his hands. He picks up the paper plate and takes it to the trash can before coming back to the table. He grabs another napkin and whipes down over the table once. He smiles at Helena and nods. "Have a good day, Miss, and good luck with the class." He sounds sincere and friendly and not like he was trying to send some hidden meaning. He goes to throw away the napkin and begins to head towards the door. Shit, last chance, H. Helena looks up from the book. "Thanks, you too, um...?" She hopes that he'll understand that she's a bit belatedly asking for introductions. Steve pauses by the door and looks back at Helena. He smiles a genuine smile and nods. "Steve Rogers. Good to meet you?" There is an upturn at the end as he also looks for a name. "Rebecca Moore." That right there was a flat-out lie. But, it was the same false name she used with Clint, so there's no going back now. Besides, she has no way to know what kind of access to police files and such the Avengers have, and considering what went on last fall, she doesn't want to risk them thinking she's some kind of lunatic murder/kidnapper ex-teacher. "Good to meet you, Miss Moore." Steve nods and heads once more out the door. The bell above the door jingles as he heads out into the street. Category:Log